


The Days After...

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby Sam Winchester, Dead Mary Winchester, Dean Needs Love, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Gen, Loss of Faith, Sad, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Family Dynamic, Sad John Winchester, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, loss of parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:18:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: Dean is four years old with smoke smudges decorating his pale cheeks. Everything smells like smoke. His clothes, his skin, even his hair.





	The Days After...

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I’ve had a really busy week, so i’m sorry if this isn’t my best work. This is for Deans Girl, who wanted to see Dean as a four-year-old after the fire. (I promise i’ll write other stories around this time period, after the fire, just in case this one isn’t that good) :)

**The Days After...**

**Dean 4, Sammy 6 months old.**

 

 

Dean is four years old with smoke smudges decorating his pale cheeks. Everything smells like smoke. His clothes, his skin, even his hair. When Daddy picks him up he smells like smoke too, but it’s worse. It smells almost like charred flesh, so strong that when he inhaled he could almost taste the acrid tang. It surrounded him, filling his nostrils when he kissed the top of Sammy’s head. 

 

Daddy made him take a really hot bath the second they got to some strange building that wasn’t home, but it had beds and windows like his old home. It even had a bathroom which is where Daddy put Sammy and Dean. 

 

He turned on the faucet and stripped Dean of his clothes. He scrubbed his skin raw in the bathtub as if trying to erase the memories of the fire that happened. The water was burning hot, almost as warm as the fire. No matter how hard Daddy scrubbed, Dean still smelled like smoke. 

 

When Dean laid his head down that night, Daddy didn’t say angels were watching over him. He didn’t say the angel prayer like Mommy did. Dean half contemplated saying it himself. He knew all the words: 

 

_Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray dear Lord my soul to keep. May angels guard me through the night. And keep me safe till morning light._

 

But Dean isn’t going to say that prayer anymore. Because when he was waiting outside of his burning home for Mommy to come out, Daddy was scared and shaking. The firemen came, and they put out the fire, but Mommy never came out. Not even when the fire was just smoke and ashes floating up into the black sky. Dean leaned against his Daddy’s arm and Daddy was so cold that he was shivering but he held Sammy tight, two arms wrapped around Dean’s baby brother, snug. As they sat on the impala, Dean didn’t tell Daddy about the angel that was supposed to protect Mommy and Daddy didn’t say everything was alright. Because it wasn’t. 

 

And that’s why Dean won’t ever pray again. Because he knows that angels didn’t keep Mommy safe and he won’t ever see Mommy again. Not even in the morning light. 

 

Now Dean can’t sleep. He can’t close his eyes and risk the house catching fire. He has to stay awake so he can stop it from happening. Daddy is on the other bed, staring at the ceiling, not saying anything. Sammy is on the floor, wrapped in a bunch of blankets to keep him comfy. Daddy built him his own little cocoon of a crib. Dean wondered why Sammy couldn’t have a crib like he did at home. But Dean didn’t want to ask. He just didn’t feel like talking. 

 

Still, Dean hates to sleep alone. He always had. A week ago, Dean crawled into Mommy and Daddy’s bed and slept in between them. Suddenly, he had the urge to do the same thing. He stood up, quietly slipping off the bed then walked over to Daddy. 

 

“Hey buddy.” Daddy’s voice was strained, like he was fighting a battle with dragons and his vocal chords were losing. 

 

Dean lifted his tiny arms up. They could just barely reach the top of the bed where John’s hands were. His short chubby fingers latched onto John’s big-large finger. He saw his Daddy crack a smile for the first time since the fire. 

 

“You want up here?” Daddy asked but he was already lifting Dean up and putting him in bed next to him. 

 

Dean snuggled into his side, tiny popsicle toes dig into his kidney, and his face buried into John’s back. 

 

Halfway through the night, Dean slipped away to hold Sammy because the baby was crying. He gave Sammy his thumb to suck on since there was no pacifier laying around. Not long after, he fell asleep on the floor next to his little brother. 

 

When John woke up and found himself alone on the bed, there was a moment of sheer panic. _Did he lose Dean and Mary?_  There was a dull roar of blood in his ears. Then he spotted Dean wrapped around his little brother cradling Sammy carefully. John doesn’t wake them. He just scoops them up, gathering them to his chest, reassuring himself they were safe. They were within reach. 

 

When Dean wakes up, he hears Daddy talking on the phone. He said something about Missouri and something about the fire. Then Daddy said he was leaving. 

 

“Just a few hours. I promise I’ll be back in a few hours. You be a good boy and stay here. If you need anything call this number and the motel manager will help you.” 

 

But all Dean could understand was Daddy was leaving him. He couldn’t let that happen. Not after Mommy left him. 

 

He grabbed his leg and wouldn’t let go. He tried to hold on even as Daddy pried his hands off. But eventually he released Daddy’s leg because he just wasn’t strong enough. 

 

“Settle down.” Daddy had scolded in a really mean voice. And Dean just didn’t like it. He began crying, trying to re-attach himself to Daddy’s legs. He didn’t understand why Daddy was mad enough to leave him. 

 

“Shhh. Dean, please. Please stop crying.” Soon Daddy was carrying Dean over to the bed, and Dean swore he was going to stay and everything would be okay. But as soon as Daddy dumped him on the bed, he ran towards the door and shut it. Dean had tried to run after him, but he took too long getting off the big bed. Curse his short legs. 

 

By the time he got to the door, Daddy was gone and the door handle was too high for him to reach. Dean screamed as loud as he could because he really didn’t want to be alone. Not after Mommy left. He spoke for the first time after the fire, screaming for Daddy to come back. 

 

“Please! Please don’t leave. I’m sorry. Daddy come back.” 

 

But Daddy didn’t come back just like Mommy didn’t. And Dean hated the angels. He hated the fire. He hated the telephone. He was so angry, he decided to throw the telephone on the floor. It felt good, so he threw it again. And again. And again. He did it until the telephone was smashed and Sammy was crying. 

 

Carefully, Dean picked up the baby just like Mommy showed him. 

 

_Hold his head. His neck is very sensitive. He can’t hold it up by himself._

 

Then he rocked Sammy until he stopped crying. He sat on the floor and gave Sammy a kiss on the forehead. He wasn’t going to leave the baby. Ever. Dean would be there for him even if no one was there for Dean. 

 

After a while, maybe three minutes or so, Dean was bored and apparently so was the baby. He put Sammy on the floor and went to see what this strange new room had for toys. Dean was very upset to find that this room had zero toys. How was he supposed to have any fun? What was he supposed to do? 

 

Dean didn’t know what to do, so he spent the whole time playing patty-cake with Sammy. At one moment he tickled the baby which was fun because Sammy cried out with glee. Then Dean went back to playing hand games. He pretended to steal Sammy’s nose, but the baby didn’t quiet understand that joke yet. Then Dean decided to hide the bar of soap under one of two pillows. He spent hours tricking Sammy into figuring out which pillow the bar of soap was hiding under. 

 

When the door finally opened and Daddy came back, Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. He stood up and ran to the man, hugging his legs so tightly because if he let go, Daddy might leave him again. 

 

“Hey there Deano. I missed you too.” He lifted the small boy onto his hip. “I brought some stuff from our old home.” Daddy’s voice grew tight when he said that, like he was fighting another dragon again. He laid the duffle bag on the kitchen table. 

 

“And then I went grocery shopping.” He said. “Do you want to help me carry the groceries?” 

 

Dean nodded frantically if it meant staying with Daddy, Dean would do anything. Together they carried a few bags of groceries in the motel room. John made sure to give Dean the really light bags with paper-towel and a few frozen dinners. John carried the heavy stuff, including a six pack of beer, two bottles of vodka, and a few bottles of whiskey. 

 

“Are you hungry?” Daddy asked and Dean nodded. He was really hungry. 

 

Daddy gave him a piece of bread to chew on while he slathered peanut butter and jelly on another two slices of bread. Then while Dean was eating, Daddy gave Sammy his bottle and changed his diaper.  

 

A few weeks passed, and even though Daddy was staying in the house, it felt like he was still gone. Because he wouldn’t get out of bed. Not even when Sammy cried. 

 

So Dean tried to feed Sammy his bottle. And he tried to comfort Sammy. Luckily, the duffle bag had a few toys in it. Sammy had his stuffed elephant and Dean had his army men. He loved playing with those guys. While Sammy was sleeping Dean would entertain himself for hours thanks to his green friends. Most days were like this. Dad stayed in his bed unless Sammy cried for longer than an hour. Then Dad would get up and change him, make something to eat, then go back in bed. One thing Dean noticed was the empty bottles Daddy had in his bed. He could no longer lay next to him at night because the bottles were in his way. So Dean got used to this routine. 

 

Then one day something weird happened. Daddy got up and packed the duffle, then he took Dean and Sam in the impala and drove away from the motel. 

 

They ended up in some other person’s house. A weird man with a lot of stuffed animals on the wall, but they looked like real animals. This man was a hunter, at least that’s what Daddy had told him. 

 

“I want you to stay here and be good. I’ll be back in a few days.” 

 

And once again, Daddy was leaving him, but this time he was leaving him with a stranger. Dean shook his head, green eyes watering. 

 

“Shhh. It’s okay. I need to figure something out. You know remember the fire, right Dean?” How could Dean forget. He nodded vigorously. “Well, something caused the fire. It wasn’t human. Something evil killed Mommy and I’m not going to rest until it’s dead.”

 

Wait, wasn’t killing a bad thing? Dean was really confused, but he nodded anyway. 

 

“I have to learn about hunting because monsters are real. And I can’t leave you by yourself or you could get hurt. So Mr. Elkins will watch you. He’s a hunter and he knows a thing or two about the supernatural.” 

 

Dean had so many questions, but the only thing he really cared about was Daddy leaving. He struggled to let go of his shirt once again, but this time Dean had someone else to hold him back, so it was easier for Daddy to leave. 

 

The hunter, Mr. Elkins, was very bad at taking care of baby Sammy, so Dean did most of caring stuff. But he needed Mr. Elkins to heat the bottles and change Sammy which the old hunter did, but wasn’t happy about. 

 

At night, Mr. Elkins woke up to a baby’s loud crying. He groaned and went to the bed where Sam was squirming around like crazy. 

 

“What?” The man yelled, picking the baby up. He didn't smell. No changing (thank goodness for that). He had been fed about 45 minutes ago so no need for a bottle. Attention it was then.

Damn. This kid needed a lot of attention. He may not have met many – ok no – other babies but he could swear it that this kid was the neediest kid on the planet. He was certain of it.

He guessed this was normal though. Little Sam had just lost his mother in a horrific fire. He probably didn't understand what the hell was happening and was wondering where his mommy was and why someone who was clearly not his mother was feeding and changing him. Elkins felt a little bit more sympathetic for the baby who he could swear was giving him insomnia after he realized that.

As the baby quietened down, Elkins realized Sam hadn't woken for attention after all. He had woken because of the moaning and crying coming from the small boy huddled under the blankets. 

Dean’s breathing quickened and he moaned. As the seconds went by, he started to thrash around and his cries got louder.

He was having a nightmare.

Elkins quickly but gently deposited the half asleep baby back in his nest of blankets and went over to Dean. He was huddled up against the headboard of the bed and hidden in the blanket. 

The hunter hesitantly placed a hand on Dean's bony shoulder and shook him gently. The kid did not respond for a while, too caught up in the nightmare. He started crying in earnest, choked, desperate sobs, completely immune to Elkins reassuring arm and his shooshing. Suddenly Dean's breathing quickened. With a small, pitiful cry his eyes flew open.

The light haired boy shot up and, if not for Elkins grabbing his hand, would have fallen off the side of the bed. He immediately looked to his brother, who was awake but content, and then looked up at Elkins. 

"You alright, kid?"

Dean frowned as his lip quivered and his eyes filled with tears. He shook his head once and the tears spilled over.

Elkins winced in anticipation for the screams that were about to rent the night once more. But none came.

Sure, Dean was crying. Tiny, crystal droplets fell from his big green eyes as he sniffled into his hand, which was fisted into his mouth. He looked distraught. But he was barely making a sound.

"Um... It's okay, Dean. It was just a dream. You're fine." Elkins said, rubbing Dean's arm awkwardly in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "There are no monsters in the cupboards or under the beds. Don't worry, I checked." Elkins smiled at his ironic joke. Checking under beds and in cupboards was part of his mandatory routine.

But Dean just kept on crying.

"Warm milk!" Elkins exclaimed. "You want some nice, warm milk, Dean?" 

But Dean kept crying silent, quiet tears which was just not normal for a little boy. It was then that Elkins realized Dean hadn’t said a word since he arrived. 

“Can you talk?” 

Dean nodded, tears pooling on the bedspread. A kid who cried so quietly... wasn't a kid. Not really. Kids cry for attention. Dean cried just because he had to. 

But Dean was clearly upset. His face was screwed up in pain and tears still leaked out of his eyes. His little fists were beating his chest and he was desperately trying not to wail.

"Dean! What's up, buddy? Where does it hurt?" Elkins hand fluttered uselessly round Dean. The kid didn't answer. Damn the muteness!

“Is it your chest?” Elkins noticed Dean still hitting himself there. The boy nodded and let out a whimper. He made Dean lay down and he gently probed for bruises swellings or any redness. He asked Dean where it hurt and Dean sniffled and gestured to his whole chest. But when he prodded him he never winced. But his face still held pain.

Elkins frowned. There was nothing wrong with Dean. That was clear. There were no cuts, bruises, swelling, broken bones, internal injury, or difficulty in breathing. The kid was fit as a fiddle.

“Kid, I can't find anything wrong with you!" Dean's eyes widened, now in confusion, before whimpering again. He gestured desperately to his chest again and looked back up at Elkins expectantly, as if he had explained everything. The kid wanted him to fix everything for him. After all, he was the grown up. They could fix anything. But Elkins only sighed in confusion.

Dean's lip trembled.

And Elkins got it. Dean just wanted attention. Like when Sam was screaming, this was Dean's plea. So what did the kid want? 

Dean sniffed again and whimpered louder than before. He grabbed both of his feet in his little hands and drew them up to his chest, like he was protecting himself. He looked straight at Elkins, his eyes overflowing with tears that he could no longer keep in and his body rocking backwards and forwards slightly. It was a pitiful sight.

"What is it you want, kid?" Elkins whispered gently as he realised how fragile the boy was in front of him. 

Dean hesitated and hiccoughed through his tears. He wiped his eyes clumsily on his knees and looked up at Elkins again with such a devastated look it almost made Elkins hard heart break and he claimed he didn’t have a heart. Wow, who knew what a little could could do to a stone-cold hunter. He was going soft. 

"Where's Daddy. And why won’t mommy come back?" Dean whispered brokenly. 

And suddenly everything made sense. The muteness. The nightmare. The beating of his chest. There was no physical pain. But he wasn't lying either.

To put it simply, Dean was in pain, but it was a kind of pain no one could fix. Not with medicine, or bandaid, or cookies and milk. The only way to fix such a broken child was to hold him. 

So Elkins sat himself down on the bed and swept Dean up into his arms. He shushed the again crying child and rubbed his hand on Dean's back, trying to soothe him.

Elkins felt desperately sorry for this little boy in front of him. He had been through so much hardship and trauma and had so much weight on his shoulders. But he was so young that he could not even understand the pain he felt.

The world was cruel. But little kids aren’t supposed to know that. Elkins did not know what to do. He just held Dean as he cried quietly; not caring that his shirt was becoming wet with tears and that this would be incredibly uncool if anyone saw him. All that mattered was showing this little boy some kindness in this harsh, cold world. Even if he never saw this little boy again. Even if the kid never remembered him. At least someone could be there for him. 

Eventually after much shushing, Dean finally calmed. He looked exhausted and tired, so Elkins carried him to the kitchen where he heated a sippy cup full of milk. Then he proceeded to feed it to the toddler as if Dean were a baby. Dean needed to be babied for a little while. 

Elkins gently pulled his hand from Dean's to put the cup down and settled more comfortably against the headboard, pulling his legs up onto it so that they rested next to the little baby who was further down the bed.

Dean shifted in Elkins grip, surprising him by trying to get more comfortable. He looked over at his brother and was happy to see Elkins long legs rested against the nest of blankets, as if they were protecting Sammy. It made Dean feel safer.

"How are you feeling kid?" He whispered.

In response, Dean smiled slightly and snuggled further into Elkins comforting arms. At least Daddy left him with someone nice. It took a while, but Dean eventually fell asleep. 

 


End file.
